


I'll Be Your Strong & Steady

by dixiethumbelina



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: AU - No zombies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Swearing, heat exhaustion, somewhat loopy Daryl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 11:08:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3325280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dixiethumbelina/pseuds/dixiethumbelina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rick fell asleep, he didn't expect to be woken by a call from Daryl's boss saying that his partner had worked himself sick in the hot Georgian sun ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Your Strong & Steady

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! Just a random bit of angsty fluff :)  
> Much love to my beautiful, talented and long--suffering beta Demeanor for all her efforts with this and the other shit I keep throwing her way :)  
> Please come find me at dixiethumbelina.tumblr.com anytime, I'm pretty much out of the Walking Dead fandom now but I still love Rickyl and am always happy to chat to anyone.

______________________________________________________________________________________

Rick Grimes rolled over on his couch to the sound of his cell phone ringing, groaning as his shirt stuck to his sweaty skin. He should have turned the air conditioner on before lying down, but what with a full day’s work and dropping Carl and Judith back off at their mom’s, he was just too damn tired. Their whole family was still getting used to the new routine now that Daryl was back at work, and Rick knew he was failing under the pressure of what his partner usually did so easily.

He snagged the still annoyingly ringing phone, knowing there was no way he could ignore it. The fact that it wasn’t chirping with the ringtones that signaled it was Daryl, Carl, Lori or the station worried Rick more than it should. Nobody else rang him except the occasional telemarketer, and if one was trying now he thought he was going to tear shreds off the poor person for disturbing the only sleep he’d gotten in three days.

“Hello?” He wiped the sweat from his face and cursed the stupidity of falling asleep in his uniform. The shirt and long pants weren’t made for the hot, humid Georgian summer.

“Hey, is this Rick?” An unknown voice chirped down the line, sounding just as hot and tired as Rick felt. He gave an affirmative, confused grumble, wondering who on earth had his number.

“You’re Daryl’s fella, right?”

Rick didn’t answer for a moment, his heart suddenly in his chest as he rocketed up into a sitting position. He gulped back a too-large breath and tried speaking, praying nothing terrible had happened, that it was a mistake. That Daryl was fine. But too many years watching it all go wrong had shown him that it was rare that strangers rang him in the middle of the day to tell him good news.  
“Yeah. What’s happened?”

“I’m his boss, Martinez. Man, you need to come get your boy.”

“What’s wrong? Is he okay?” Rick was already off the couch, grabbing for his wallet and keys, tugging his boots on one-handed on his way out the door.

“Umm ... He’s not so good. Man’s working himself too hard, me and the boys took the afternoon off ‘cause of the heat, but he refused. Don’t think he should ride that bike looking like he does.”

Rick cursed as he locked the door and damn near ran to his truck, tripping over a loose piece of pavement on the way. “Where is he?” He knew he should have paid more attention to Daryl’s whereabouts this week, but the job sites shifted so often that Rick struggled to keep up. Last he’d heard, his partner had been working on the other side of town.

“Out on Casey Street, at the apartment complex there. We brought him down from the roof, you’ll see us out front.” Martinez’s voice was clipped, concerned for one of his employees, and Rick couldn’t be more thankful that there was somebody else keeping an eye out for Daryl. God knows the man didn’t put himself on the priority list.

“I’ll be there in five.” Rick hurriedly thanked Martinez before hanging up, not needing a write up from his own boss about driving and talking on the phone. His truck left rubber on the driveway as he peeled out, headed for the apartments and one of the only people who mattered to him anymore.

Daryl had been part of his life for over two years, the result of accidentally running his truck up the back end of Rick’s squad car and Rick giving him a lift home when the tow truck hauled away the rust heap Daryl had been driving. He still smiled at the ‘accidental’ meetings on both sides after that, neither willing to admit they were attracted to each other yet unwilling to walk away, and Rick thanked whatever deity had let him wind up with Daryl, a man a thousand times better than what the cop deserved.

They’d been together through Rick’s messy divorce, through his mama dying and Daryl’s brother Merle being locked up for the better part of ten years for dealing drugs off his bike. Rick had busted his ass to get that same bike out of evidence and back to Daryl, knowing he missed it nearly as much as his brother.

Now, Rick wasn’t sure what he’d do without Daryl at his side, strong silent presence always there to keep him grounded, to keep him going when Lori threw a fuss over Carl and Judith, when his workload got too high and the bills got too over their heads. For once, Rick wanted to be the one to help Daryl, the one to look after his partner, and as he slid into the carpark of the apartments, he hoped he’d be able to do something to fix this.

He rocketed out of the truck, not caring that he didn’t shut the door on the way to the circled pickup trucks parked in the shade of the building. He saw Daryl’s bike, saw a crew of ten or so men standing around in a group, but he couldn’t see Daryl, and that terrified Rick no end. A dark haired man came out in front, hand up in greeting, but Rick barely saw him until he was almost chest to chest with the guy.

“You Rick?”

“Yeah. Where is he?” Rick craned his head to look around the man, looking for a sign of his partner. Looking for anything to tell him that he could stop panicking.

The man in front of him held out his hand again. “I’m Caesar Martinez. Your boy’s over here.” He gestured to the group of men, and from his closer position, Rick could make out a pair of familiar brown workboots, the soles worn thin and slippery against the edge of the curb. He cursed and spun past Martinez, an unstoppable force on the way to his partner.

The sight of a still-uniformed police officer was all it took for the group of men to scatter in three directions – the law abiding ones who stepped back far enough to let Rick get to Daryl, the ones who weren’t fond of police who scuttled back inside the building, and the ones who most likely had something to hide who disappeared like smoke. Any other day, Rick would have been on alert and chasing at least one of them. Today, though, he had bigger problems, like the man he loved sitting in a crumpled heap on the sidewalk and leaning on the one man who hadn’t moved.

“Dare?” Rick reached out to the hunter, almost afraid to touch the sunburnt shoulders.  
Daryl’s head tilted up with a groan, brown hair so soaked with sweat that it appeared almost black. The cop hoped he successfully held back his wince at the sight of Daryl’s face, pale where it wasn’t sunburnt and eyes half closed.

“Rick? Whatcha doin’ here?” Daryl’s voice was thick and croaky, as though he’d gone a month without water, and Rick watched his slow, sluggish movements as he crouched in front of his partner.

“Come to take you home.” Rick held out a hand to rest it on Daryl’s knee, stroking over the shaking muscle and feeling very much like being sick. He’d never seen his partner look so unwell before, the man not even allowing himself to succumb to the common cold properly in the time they’d been together.

“S not time ta go yet ...” Daryl looked up at the strong man propping him up. “S it, Ty?”

Ah. Rick knew who this man was, one of few Daryl had gotten along well enough to consider a friend in his new job. Tyreese was the carpenter on Martinez’s team, a big man who Daryl admitted was scary as hell to look at until you got to talking to him and realized he was a giant pussycat. Tyreese smiled down at Daryl, fondly yet concerned, reminding Rick of the gaze his parents would shoot his way when he was a child.

“Yeah, for you it is, buddy.”

Daryl looked crestfallen at Tyreese’s words, staring down at Rick with wide blue eyes and his bottom lip dropping. “Did I get fired again?” His voice was so soft the cop struggled to hear it, and when he did he sighed sadly. Daryl hadn’t had a great run with work, most people unwilling to hire one of the previously infamous Dixon brothers, or if they were, they'd let him go at the slightest infraction. Too many years of failed attempts had left him a mixture of unwilling to try and desperate to keep the job.

“No, darlin’, you’re fine. Martinez rang me because you ain’t well.” That was a major understatement, Daryl was looking worse every minute he was exposed to the heat of the outdoors, and Rick wanted to speed up the process of getting him into the air conditioned truck.

“M alright ...” Even Daryl didn’t sound convinced, leaning forward and almost collapsing into Rick as he struggled to stand up. His legs folded under him, and the only thing that prevented him from crashing into the hard concrete beneath them was the combined force of Rick’s and Tyreese’s arms wrapping around him to haul him up.

“You will be soon, Dare. Just gotta get you home and get you in a shower.”

Daryl mumbled something incoherent as Rick led him towards the car, Tyreese backing off to be a strong presence at their sides and the one to pop the passenger side door open. It took both men to fold the heavy, yet still slim hunter into the truck as he grumbled quietly, one hand clutching his own head almost painfully. Rick propped him up so he was somewhat comfortable, stroking one hand down the too-hot flesh of his partner’s cheek and smiling as Daryl leaned into the familiar touch. He looked so tired and worn, as if he’d been getting less than his normal five-hour rest a night.  
“Let’s go home, yeah?”

“Hmm?” Daryl’s eyes shot open, staring around the truck with his eyes wide and puzzled. “How’d I get here?”

Rick sucked in a deep breath, hand slipping down to hold Daryl’s clammy one and noticing just how much sweat was pouring off the man. “We just brought you here, Daryl.” He gestured behind him to Tyreese, feeling the man’s bear paw-like hand clap down on his shoulder and the gentle words to Daryl, telling him to get better soon, that they’d look after his bike for him, and for Rick to make sure Daryl knew he still had a job, before the large man turned and headed back to the job site.

Sitting in his own seat, the air con cranked as far as it would go, Rick broke every damn speed limit on the way back to their home. His attention wavered from the road to Daryl and back again, watching his partner shuffle himself into the most comfortable position he could find, arms wrapped around his stomach and head tilting onto his knees. As they pulled into the driveway and Rick climbed out to help Daryl, the cop heard the first words his redneck had gotten out coherently since they’d left the carpark.

“Don’ feel so good.”

The cop slid his hand into Daryl’s, stroking over the sweaty digits and grimaced at the green tinge the hunter’s face had taken on. “Don’t look so good, sweetheart. C’mon, I think you need to get inside.”

_________________________________________________________________________

 

The walk inside took far too long, Daryl’s feet tangling with each other constantly and sending the man lurching towards the ground. No matter how he tried, the redneck’s body fought his attempts to stay vertical and moving forward, and Rick ended up taking most of his weight the entire way to the bathroom.

Once he was seated on the edge of the bath, Rick began to pull off his partner’s clothes. Daryl grumbled under his breath and began to shove him away, nearly tipping himself into the empty bath in the process.

“What’s wrong, Dare?”

“Fuckin’ hornball, Grimes ... ‘M sposed ta be at work!” Daryl swatted at the hands coming down to undo the buttons on his shirt, and although the gravity of the situation weighed on Rick, he couldn’t help smiling at the other man, who reminded him of Judith as she came into her toddler stage. Their little girl was just as fussy about having her clothes taken off and disliked baths intensely.  
“Gotta get you cooled off first, darlin’, then we’ll see about work.”

Daryl settled somewhat once his shirt and pants were joined on the floor by Rick’s and their boots were on the floor. The cop didn’t trust the co-ordination of his partner enough to let him attempt standing in the shower unaided. He hauled Daryl up to stand beside him, the cool spray splattering them both as he tried to reach a compromise between getting the redneck cooled off, and not actually freezing him. Daryl was quiet but for the occasional soft groan, head tilting into Rick’s chest and eyes squeezing shut as the cop herded him under the water.

As the full force of the cool liquid hit them both, Daryl shot backward with a yelp. “The hell ya doin’!”

Rick managed to balance them both on the slippery tiles, keeping Daryl upright and under the water. “I’m sorry, darlin’, but I gotta do this. You’re too hot.”

“’M _fine_ , Rick!” Daryl’s blunt fingernails scratched at the cop’s side as he attempted to get free. “Rick, please!”

The cop squeezed his eyes closed, wishing he could shut his ears against the pleas. “I’m sorry, Dare, I am. Just, relax, alright?”

“Rick ...” Daryl’s cries turned to soft sobs as he shuddered under the cool water, reminding Rick of the times Carl had gotten a fever and needed the same treatment. But this time instead of a sick child in the bathtub, the cop had to hold the man he loved steady, to cup the water in his hands and splash it along his body, and hold back his own tears as Daryl cried out again.

“I know, sweetheart, I know. All be over soon enough.”

Although it hurt like hell to see his partner in so much pain, Rick opened his eyes to watch the hunter shake against him, eyes slammed closed against the water, face and neck still bright red from the sun. The cop wondered at Daryl’s strength, how he had gone most of the day in the heat where everybody else had sensibly gone inside, how he had managed for so long without passing out. Rick shivered as the cold water began to affect him, but he could still feel too much heat buried under Daryl’s skin, the flesh burning under his hands where normally the redneck was almost too cool.

“It’ll be over soon, then we can go lie down, okay?” Rick was more grateful than ever that they’d been able to afford to have the air conditioning routed through to the bedrooms in their house the previous spring, wanting somewhere comfortable to settle Daryl. The redneck didn’t respond, too busy trying to bury his face in Rick’s shoulder to escape the water.

For interminably long minutes, they stood under the water together, both shivering and holding onto each other as if they’d lose the other by moving even an inch. Finally, when Rick couldn’t feel his fingertips anymore and he thought that Daryl was at least a little cooler, he reached behind them to turn off the taps.

The redneck was swaying in his arms, blinking water out of glazed, bloodshot blue eyes and staring blankly at a spot near Rick’s neck. The cop forwent the idea of drying either of them off, instead leading his wet hunter towards their bedroom and helping him to sit on the side of the bed. He would have been happy to lie there naked beside Daryl, but nudity was something the redneck hadn’t learnt to appreciate, always preferring clothing even when it was hot as hell. So Rick snagged a pair of briefs for each of them and cranked the aircon as high as it would go before turning back to his partner.

Daryl hadn’t moved, was just swaying slightly and staring at his feet, one arm propping him against the bed covers. Rick tilted his head as he moved closer, watching Daryl yawn and shiver in the cooling room. “Sweetheart?”

The redneck’s head shot up, unbalancing him enough that he fell back on his elbow and stared up at Rick, eyes crossing momentarily before he managed to focus somewhat. “Wha’s wrong?”

The cop smiled tenderly, holding up the pants in one hand. “Wanna put these on?”

Daryl blinked up at him and the fabric in his hand before staring down the line of his own body. As soon as he saw the lack of clothes his hands came out to cover himself and he flushed an even more violent shade of red. “The hell’m I naked for?”

Rick fought the urge to chuckle at the hissed words. This was starting to remind him of the times Daryl had gotten ridiculously drunk and couldn’t get his own clothes off. “You had a shower, sweetheart. C’mon, put them on.”

Daryl’s brows furrowed and his lips pulled down in a frown, concentrating far too hard as he bent to pull the briefs up his legs. His tongue peeked out the side of his lips, blue eyes intense as he struggled to get himself covered. The cop sat beside him, hands balancing the other man without making him feel like he was being babied, fingers stroking along the hot and already too-dry flesh of his sides and back. He ran them along the scars covering Daryl’s body, watching as the redneck shivered each time Rick hit a sensitive spot.

It took too long for Daryl to work out the co-ordination required to get himself covered up, and when he did, he flopped backwards onto the mattress, arm falling over his eyes. The cop couldn’t help admiring the picture he painted, legs spread open and broad chest rising and falling steadily. Then he was brought back to reality with a thump when he saw more of the flushed skin over Daryl’s clavicles where the sun hadn’t touched him.

When he leant down to shift the redneck further onto the bed, there was an unmistakable sheen of sweat coming over the other man’s body. “Daryl?”

Rick got a grumbling, incoherent groan as an answer, the other man turning onto his side and burrowing into his arm. The cop shook at his shoulder, the heat coming from his partner like a branding iron against his hand. “Daryl!”

“What, damnit?” Daryl’s arm fell back to reveal bloodshot blue eyes glaring back at Rick. He held his hands up in surrender, knowing the last thing he needed was a pissed off redneck who happened to be entirely unco-operative.

“Just don’t want you to go to sleep just yet.” He tilted his head to watch as Daryl licked at his dry lips, the normally pink skin chapped and sunburnt. “How long since you drank something?”

“Umm ...” Daryl’s short nails scratched at his forehead, the confusion obvious in his eyes. “I think I had a can’a Coke earlier?”

Of course he did. Rick shoved his hair back off his face in frustration, wishing his partner didn’t have such a sweet tooth. “How ‘bout I go get you some water?”

“Mmff ...” Daryl’s eyes slid closed as he nodded weakly and shifted to rest his head on the edge of the pillow. Rick squeezed at his lax fingers gently before leaving, wishing there was something he could do about the exhaustion and confusion in every word and movement Daryl made.

Their kitchen felt sweltering compared to the iciness of their bedroom, even Rick’s briefs feeling too hot in the small room. He snagged a bottle of water out of the fridge, and after thinking for a moment, one of his bottles of Gatorade. The stuff didn’t taste too good, but if he could get Daryl to drink some it might make help with the dehydration. The cop shook his head as he wet a cloth and walked back to their room, wondering how a man of thirty six, who had been mostly self-sufficient all his life, managed to work himself sick by not drinking water or taking breaks.

But that was Daryl, a man who’d give everything for anyone who mattered to him. A man who, Rick knew, didn’t see the value in himself, still didn’t see after so long together that his health mattered to the cop. As he stared, dry mouthed, at the picture Daryl painted, sprawled over the bed, sweaty and miserable and panting quietly, Rick wondered when it would sink in to his partner. That Rick didn’t care if he didn’t have a job, that he did plenty at home keeping their kids in order. That he didn’t have to work himself to death to help with the fucking bills. He knelt at the redneck’s side and stroked the cold cloth down Daryl’s arm, hushing him gently when he started. “You’re alright, Dare. Just me.”

His partner grumbled again, head lifting up an inch off the pillow to stare bleary eyed at Rick before falling back down again. “M thirsty...”

The cop smiled sadly, Daryl’s voice so soft and gently pleading for relief that it reminded Rick of Carl again, all the redneck’s walls falling down to leave him childlike on their bed. “I’ve got something here, if you can sit up?”

Daryl hauled himself up on one arm, muscled abdomen flexing and hair flopping over his eyes as he pulled himself up into a somewhat comfortable position. He reached out blindly with his free hand, grasping for the water Rick held up and holding it shakily to his mouth. The cop watched as he gulped at the bottle, lips wrapping around it and holding firmly until half of the water was gone and Daryl let out a tiny belch. He flopped back down onto the mattress, stretching out and blinking tiredly up at Rick. “Thanks.”

“That’s alright, darlin’.” Rick stroked the cloth back down over Daryl’s body, leaving wet lines down his clavicles, over his chest and the scars littering it from years of abuse until he reached the waistband of his briefs and he could work his way back up again. He watched muscles twitch under his touch, how Daryl leaned into the coolness and arched away in the few ticklish spots he had until finally, the cloth had begun to dry and the room felt chilled to Rick’s skin.

The cloth abandoned on the floor, the cop slid onto the bed beside his partner, being careful not to disturb the dozing redneck. Daryl flipped himself clumsily, wrapping an arm around Rick’s chest and snuggling into his neck, hot nose burning a brand against the other man’s skin. He wondered for a moment if he should push Daryl away, to keep the heat from his own body heat off his skin. But when Daryl’s hand began searching along the covers until it reached Rick’s, the strong redneck letting out a relieved sigh at the contact once their fingers were entangled, Rick couldn’t move either of them away.

He pressed a kiss to the sweatsoaked hair tickling his nose, the exhaustion he’d shoved away coming back tenfold now that he was able to relax. There wasn’t a chance that he’d be able to stay awake, to look over Daryl as he slept. Rick figured they’d probably be okay, that Daryl would begin to recover now that he was in their cool room and as long as the cop could wake himself every now and then to force fluids into him.

But as he stared at the flushed face below his, Rick reminded himself that he was going to have to talk to Daryl when he was better, about realising he wasn’t superhuman and he didn’t have to be. The jobs didn’t matter, they could cope without the extra income. But Rick knew he’d never be able to cope without Daryl at his side, his strength and love the thing that kept him going when everything else fell apart and there was nobody else in his corner.

Now he needed to be the strong one and keep his redneck safe from himself.


End file.
